White Boy by Tom Graves

Author:Tom Graves [Graves, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I knew I was doomed when Ken Burns swanned into town. The esteemed documentary filmmaker was promoting his upcoming PBS series on jazz and part of his promotional tour involved speaking to high school musicians at special forums, often with high school jazz bands—Memphis had a good one—doing the warm-up. Much to my disappointment, Burns did not fall under my purview, but I made it known that I planned to go to the event for him and even offered to pitch in and help with any promotional effort. To that end I made calls to some of the reporters in the media I was close to who I knew would be interested in anything involving Burns. This was all well-coordinated with the director in charge of Memphis City Schools’ music curriculum.

On the day of the Burns event, just before I left my office, one of the secretaries from the Music Department came into the Communications Department and asked if anyone was going downtown to the Ken Burns affair. I told her I was going. She asked if I would mind taking the director of the Music Department some extra flyers he had called for. I said I would and told her I was leaving for a quick lunch and would go directly to the Burns affair afterward. All was fine.

As I lugged a small box of flyers into the auditorium I was met with several people in full panic. They had run out of flyers and the Ken Burns people were berating them for not having enough on hand. Now, you would think that I had saved the day by bringing them the extra flyers they needed. Instead I was asked why it had taken me so long. I explained that I had told the secretary I intended to get a quick bite to eat and after that I came straightaway to the event. That did not seem to suffice.

The head of the Music Department complained to my boss, Janice Crawford, that I had delayed in bringing the much-needed flyers. She not only called me into her office, but she had already written me up and put a warning notice in my employee file. I protested, explaining that all I did was try to help out and was being punished for doing a good deed. I explained that no one told me that there was any rush. Janice felt I should have assumed the importance and foregone my lunch. And there it was in cold type sitting ominously in my employee folder. The whole affair got deeply under my skin and my temper barely was in check. I left after telling Janice that next time someone asked for help, I would refuse. She glared and made a note with her pen.

The writing, as they say, was on the bulletin board. After that day, all of a sudden my speeches were terrible, my press releases not up to par, and I was further written up for minor spitting-on-the-sidewalk level offenses. I

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